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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987592">Fireworks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuildingGsr/pseuds/BuildingGsr'>BuildingGsr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Crime Scene Investigation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuildingGsr/pseuds/BuildingGsr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What can go wrong if Grissom and Sara hide themselves in a warehouse at David's wedding party?<br/>Set before episode 7x06 <i>“Burn out”</i> (but after episode 7x05 <i>“Double-cross”</i>) and after it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>First publication on <a href="http:buildinggsr.altervista.org">my blog</a></b>: April 7, 2016<br/>
<b>Last editing</b>: <del>June 30, 2020</del> January 2020</p><p>The original Italian version of this fic was was almost complete when I knew about the <a href="http://csiforeveronline.wikifoundry.com/page/March+2016+FF+Challenge-Prompts">"March 2016 Fanfiction Challenge"</a>. I decided to use this fic to contribute, using the prompt <i>"It all started on (a) Wednesday morning"</i>.<br/>
I had to rewrite some parts of the original fic and I inserted all the mention to Wednesday. Last, but not least, I was able to use the prompt as the final line too.</p><p>I would like to thank addictedtostorytelling (for helping me find the right place to set the fic within the CSI timeline with this post) and Susan Dietz (for letting me add that "a" in the prompt). I also would like to thank Emilie Sabourin, who gave me the spark to manage the final part of the fic.<br/>
I would like to thank my beta-reader, Erika Nicolosi, for her kind help and patience. </p><p>
  
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>CHAPTER 1</h1><p>
  <span>"It all started on a Wednesday morning, David told me..." Sara, in the locker room along with the rest of the team, explained to Nick. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He was wondering why David had chosen that particular day of the week for his wedding party - “Isn't Wednesday a strange day for a party?” Nick had asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of his job, and constant lack of staff, in fact, David and Amy had decided to have a simple ceremony, then the celebrations a few days later; no honeymoon for them, not now, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They are the romantic kind..." was Warrick's observation to Sara’s explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A marriage needs a bit of romance," Catherine replied at once, closing her locker's door. "I’m speaking from experience," she added with an irony that everybody understood, knowing the story of her relationship with her deceased ex-husband, Eddie. She greeted everyone saying that she would meet them that evening, at the party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to see Tina at the party?” Nick asked his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warrick wasn't sure, maybe she had to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In case she can't come, say hello to her for me,” Nick told him on his way to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to behave, anyway,” Greg reminded Warrick, just after Nick walked out the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sure you'll have great fun, instead," Warrick replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bet!" Greg exclaimed. "Now, in fact, I really have to go: I must be fresh and restored for tonight!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warrick rolled his eyes and followed him, walking out the room and leaving Sara alone with Grissom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You remember place and time, right?" she asked her supervisor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Do I really have to come?" he asked, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's SuperDave, Gilbert," Sara replied, lowering the volume of her voice, but talking to him like a mother would have done with a next-to-adolescence son who's making a fuss about brushing his teeth. “It's SuperDave and he got married,” she continued explaining. “Don't you think it's worth it? </span>
  <span>I'm sure he would reschedule the party if he knew you weren't going</span>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom grimaced and gave up further protests: it's not that he didn't want to go to David's party because of the guy; the problem was the party itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Moreover,” Sara went on, just before closing her locker, “I don't understand why you're protesting. You men just need to wear a suit and a tie, and you're ready."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You women just need to wear a dress and you're ready too," Grissom objected, way too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're women, Gil," Sara only replied, offering no other explanation, convinced that that answer clarified enough the concept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She greeted him with a wink and said they would meet later at the party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was just as Grissom had foreseen: women were beautiful, men were well-dressed, food was pretty good and rather abundant; the after-dinner was accompanied by music that his ears found awful and the party was entertaining for everyone but him. The company: people he saw everyday at work and strangers who pretended to establish durable relationships in the span of just a few hours. Brass couldn’t be there, so his only solace were Doc Robbin's jokes, but they were scarce, because his friend was too intent on entertaining his own wife and David's young wife's parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a relief, then, when he heard Sara's voice behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="http://buildinggsr.altervista.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Together.jpg">  </a>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was sure you would have worn that suit," she stated, sitting on a chair nearby, belonging to a table close to Grissom's, as deserted as the one Grissom sat at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're able to read people's minds, now?" he asked, hiding his mouth from inappropriate eyes behind his own glass, half filled with a non-alcoholic and vaguely sweet liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You did move it," Sara answered, looking around. "I noticed you moved it to the front of the closet," she specified for the sake of clarity. She drank a sip of non-alcoholic beer and reluctantly swallowed it. "Ouh...non-alcoholic beer should be illegal," she stated afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We have to go to work after the party, we can't drink alcoholic drinks," Grissom reminded her, yet agreeing with Sara's statement with a half smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So...tell me,” she asked point blank, “are you enjoying yourself?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Isn't it evident?" he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara could do nothing but smile. "How come?” she asked, “A charismatic guy like you, filled with knowledge coming out all of your pores -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure that beer is non-alcoholic?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean to tell me that you haven't found anyone to chat with?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom moved his sight across the hall until he found Doc Robbins – on the opposite side of the hall he was surrounded by no-longer-young women who were listening to him very carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My right-hand man is too busy entertaining the women of the spouse's family, who appear to have a particular interest in causes of death," Grissom answered a bit disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about you? Any woman to entertain?" Sara asked, before drinking another sip of beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom smiled with conceit, but with a feeling of attraction as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would have one," he answered half-voice, "but she too seems more interested in something else," he explained with a kind of offended note in his voice –  the whole evening, in fact, he had been under the impression that for some reason she was avoiding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Poor boy," she said, pretending to feel sorry for him. "Maybe you don't know how to entertain her the right way..." she objected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom turned to Sara: her eyes were asking him to find a way to leave that hall, in order to spend some time on their own. He then turned his gaze back toward the joyful people in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I noticed a warehouse in the back," he just said, without turning to Sara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's interesting, isn't it?" she replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no need to look at each other, they understood they had had the same idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus, out of the blue Sara got up, leaving the fake beer on the table next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I’m gonna go powder my nose," she announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope it won't take too long," Grissom replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara briskly walked away and Grissom waited a few minutes. Afterwards, very casually, he got up, straightened his jacket and made his way to the back, exiting from the back door of the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warehouse Grissom had mentioned was a building with a square base, three meters per side, and was about ten meters away from the building where the party was hosted, almost hidden by the garden vegetation. A lamppost was halfway down the road. The doorway of the warehouse was on its back, hidden from the eyes of anyone coming from the main building, and just a little window was facing that direction. Grissom placed his hand on the handle, and didn’t have any trouble opening the door, which strangely had been left unlocked. Sara arrived just as he was stepping in.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Upon walking in, Grissom turned on the light, but Sara turned it off right after, taking care to lock the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t want to draw people’s attention, do we?” she said, pointing to the little window, while walking under it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped under the pale light beam of the lamppost entering through the window, and she looked around. Grissom was a bit surprised by Sara's observation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems that you know a lot of things about...” he didn’t know how to explain and Sara ended the sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...about hiding at parties?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom nodded in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're the master of hiding par excellence,” Sara noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom made an oblique smile and moved in the dim light, having a look around. Sara, too, watched the space becoming less and less dark as the eyes acclimated to darkness: there were tools for gardening and, on the shelves on the walls, cans of gardening and cleaning products, paint buckets, solvent cans and other things Sara didn't recognize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me...why did you choose this place?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said it was interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The idea didn't come from me, first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that I didn’t know how to entertain you properly, so I looked for something...unusual...” Grissom explained, but he wanted to add, “Even if, to be honest, you didn’t look bored at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t mean to, but a bitter note colored his last assertion. Sara reasoned over it for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you take me here for a jealousy scene?” she joked in a cordial and tender way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom, in the half-light, didn’t answer right away and turned his gaze to the solvent cans and cleaning products on the shelf next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he finally answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t add anything and Sara understood that something else was worrying him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is our first attendance to an event together,” she said. He turned to her and Sara understood that she had found the right trail. “As...a couple, I mean,” she added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A delicate smile moved Grissom’s lips. “Yeah,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They remained silent for a while: Sara was always left speechless when Grissom’s more-human side, his tenderness and fragility, which dwelt in the most hidden corner of his heart, made their way through his rigid composure, successfully making room and walking out in the light of the external world. It was something that warmed her heart and instilled in her a feeling of safety towards life. On his side, Grissom was hardly successful in handling those moments that Sara loved so much – he was so used to ignoring them, to keeping them hidden and under control that when they unexpectedly showed up, he didn’t know what to do and how to behave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever experienced something like this before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom was awakened by Sara’s question, which appeared without context.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiding at a party?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No...” Sara smiled. “Having a...secret relationship,” she clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm...no,” he answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know why, but the fact that he had never had a secret relationship before made him feel a bit dumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither have I.” Sara’s reply made him feel a bit more comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"These kinds of events are a sort of a trophy room, for people, aren’t they?" Grissom commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Trophy room?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To exhibit each other's partner," Grissom clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are they?" Sara asked rather surprised. "I really can't tell...I'm not very used to this kind of social events," she admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe you'd have preferred...you know…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, that unmanageable tenderness peeped out and, again, Grissom didn’t know how to handle it, and didn’t know how to explain himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’d have preferred to exhibit my trophy?" Sara concluded, a bit amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom shrugged as a sign of assent. Sara’s smile widened a bit more; she then approached Grissom and took the edge of his jacket with her fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I exhibit my trophy every single day," she whispered, frankly, without being able not to blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom felt his chest swell, as if filled with a sudden stream of compressed air, and that took his breath away – he realized that he had missed her terribly throughout the evening and that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the trophy he would have exhibited, rather than the contrary. The verses of a Joni Mitchell’s song came to his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes the light can be so hard to find. At least the moon at the window the thieves left that behind…" he quoted, approaching Sara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was pleasantly surprised by the citation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...it’s not exactly the moon,” she observed, as she saw Grissom appearing in the cone of the lamppost light, “but we can pretend that -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in the gaze of Grissom, who had suddenly turned his head towards the main building, made her stop speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you hear that?” Grissom asked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara lent an ear, but she couldn't understand what her mate was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at his watch and murmured, “Perfect timing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timing?” Sara asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their song,” Grissom answered, sudden happiness on his face. “Walking out the hall, I noticed the playlist. It’s the moment of their song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t hear anything,” Sara had to admit - a bit disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"May I have this dance?" Grissom proposed unexpectedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara laughed, but then she saw that he was staring at her, encouraging her to accept his proposal to dance. So she turned serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom didn’t wait any longer: he slipped an arm around Sara's waist, drew her to him and took her right hand, lifting their joined hands at the level of their shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kind of protested, but he half-closed his eyes, as to shut her up, and wrinkled his forehead, as to concentrate in order to hear better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you hear the bass?” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “The low frequency vibrations...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head slightly and, finally, she understood: they were velvety blows, weakened by the transparency of the air, but she could feel them through the bones. Probably, in the main hall, they had also turned up the volume, because they could hear the song, even if it looked quite simple and delicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rocked by those far sounds, Grissom and Sara began to shyly move in a waltz, gradually getting closer; their job, their everyday life, left them so little time to spend together, that at the end of the song that dance involuntarily began turning into a different kind of dance – a more physical dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know?”  Greg said to the short and brunette girl with whom he was spending most of the evening and with whom he had just finished dancing, “I noticed a place where we could relax a bit...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked like a guy who likes parties,” she objected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly” the young man replied, winking towards the back side of the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl made a big smile and they sneaked off. Few minutes later they too were in front of the door of the warehouse. Greg tried to open it, but couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, Grissom and Sara, taken unawares, turned towards the door, staying alert without moving a muscle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't believe this,” Grissom murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I locked the door,” Sara whispered with a barely audible voice, trying to calm down both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They heard the girl say something to Greg, kind of deluded; but Greg didn't give up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't worry, sweet angel,” he said. “I'm a CSI, right? We always have an ace in the hole. I'll conquer the castle for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a few seconds and he started working on the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two inside understood that it wouldn't take Greg long to unlock the door. With a rampant rush they began to put themselves together, and fixed themselves up. Afterwards, the supervisor pulled a little portable light out of his pocket and, protecting the flash of the light with a hand, he started to look around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do now?” Sara asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom absently muttered something. Sara understood that he was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Done!” Greg's voice rejoiced.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grissom and Sara turned towards the door, aware of having a terrified and guilty look on their faces, but wishing to be able to disguise it somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg opened the door a bit more and saw the beam of Grissom's light. Worried, he kept the girl back and instinctively looked for the switch, which he found two seconds later. When the place became brighter, Greg was astonished at the scene of Grissom and Sara looking at him like statues. He understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl tried to walk in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's goi –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg shielded her view, walked backwards and closed the door without a word. Grissom went back looking around and Sara asked him what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, sweet angel,” the two inside heard Greg say, “this is not the right place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could try fireworks...” Grissom murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I have a thing to do, though,” Greg continued. “Would you wait for me inside?” he gently asked the young girl, pointing to the building they had come from. “I'll reach you in a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps was the tone Greg used, or maybe was his facial expression, but the girl obeyed without protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait for you inside, then,” she kindly greeted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds the door opened again. This time the two inside were ready and their turning to him looked more natural.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg walked in, closed and locked the door. Then, he stood staring at them. No one spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing in here?" the young man finally asked, with a tact of a grizzly bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fireworks," Grissom answered and his answer amused Greg a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure you are...!" he objected with an impudent smile, while his gaze kept going from Grissom to Sara. "And you were locked in, because...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It had to be a surprise," Grissom answered securely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It definitely was a surprise!" Greg replied with a mischievous laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom and Sara pretended to not understand what was so funny to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could at least turn the light on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It didn't turn on when we tried."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom didn't let himself be shocked by Greg's allusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's why I was using my portable light," he pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do always have an answer, Grissom, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to join us?” the supervisor unexpectedly proposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara turned to him asking herself where he got that stupid idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Making fireworks? It sounds great!" Greg exalted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. Let's get to work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything seemed to calm down: Greg's clear curiosity as well as Grissom and Sara's agitation. For about twenty minutes, they worked fully in tune as if they were at the lab, doing their best, under Grissom's instructions, using what they found in a place where, by chance, they happened to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finished, proud of their work, they made their way to the exit. But, already with his hand on the handle, Greg locked the door again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a minute. Let’s fix ourselves up, before going back to the party,” he said, turning towards the other two. “Am I ok?” he asked them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're afraid your </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet angel</span>
  </em>
  <span> won't recognize you?” Sara ironically asked. Grissom maliciously laughed up his sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Greg replied, “but maybe someone could make assumptions,seeing you go around with a twisted skirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My skirt is not twisted,” Sara made clear, without bothering to check if what Greg had said was true or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom, who at Greg's observation had thrown a look to her skirt, cleared his own throat, drawing Sara's attention. She, by looking at him and then lowering her gaze on the skirt, understood to be wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That's true...!” she said with innocent surprise, fixing the skirt. “That's strange. It probably moved while we were working on the fireworks,” she tried fishing for a good excuse</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another strange thing is that Grissom”who, singled out, stiffened, ”being so precise, skipped a button of his shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aware of Sara's experience, Grissom checked it out. Moving aside the tie, he saw that Greg was right about him too: buttoning up the shirt in a hurry, he had skipped a button and there the shirt folded a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's strange, you're right...” he murmured thoughtfully, as he buttoned up the shirt correctly under the watchful eyes of Sara and Greg, both, for different reasons, entertained at that scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finished, </span>
  <span>he shot both of them a questioning glance, wondering what was so fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we go, now?” he said. “We won't be able to show our fireworks if we keep staying here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more thing.” Greg replied. He pulled a hanky out of his pocket and he handed it to the supervisor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you have a hanky in your pocket, Greg?” Sara asked with malice, trying to not give so much importance to his two previous observations he had done to her and Grissom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same malice, though, returned to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a gentleman,” Greg answered, keeping his arm stretched toward Grissom. “And, as a gentleman, I can say that your lipstick has a nice color, Sara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Greg,” she said, puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t think it matches your lips very well, Grissom,” Greg added, turning his gaze to the supervisor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following silence was so intense as to appear a physical presence, like a huge boulder which permeated everything and everything squashed, squashing it. Even breathing seemed to have become problematic. Ten seconds became an eternity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't see anything,” Sara eventually started off, after glimpsing Grissom's lips – the glimpse was quick, but the man could see, through Sara's eyes, that Greg was, again, relentlessly, right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can't see anything, Sara?” Greg laughed. “Then Grissom was right in not promoting you, because you're blind as a bat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not something a gentleman would say, Greg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even a gentleman has to face empirical evidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really have no idea what you're talking about,” Sara denied again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...I can't see anything wrong with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anyway,” the youngest man in the room replied, surprising them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, anything wrong with...what?” Sara questioned, rather in a bad mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg turned to Grissom and he had the impression that the supervisor, in spite of his stillness, was giving him the approval to go on, to say it all. And so he turned to Sara again and he did it.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Locked door, dim light, a man, a woman. I know that you all still treat me like the lab tech with crazy hair, (he threw a quick look to Grissom when he said this), but I'm not that stupid, Sara,” he concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've never treated you like that,” she immediately denied, this time deeply honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a glance Greg made her understand that he knew and he thanked her for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My arm is falling asleep, Grissom,” he said nevertheless. “Would you take this hanky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout Greg and Sara's squabble the supervisor had been silent, still, just moving his gaze from one to the other, but in that moment he had a start and, from being a statue came back to a more human shape. He moved his gaze from Greg's face to the hanky a couple of times, then he barely turned to Sara and reached his hand to pick the hanky from Greg's hand. Sara crossed her arms and bowed her head, chewing her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Greg said to Grissom. He then unclenched his own arm, shaking it by a side, in order to get the blood flow back to normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks to you,” Grissom replied, after having cleaned his lips – looking at the hanky he actually found traces of lipstick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to insert it into his pocket, when Greg gestured to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The neck,” he suggested. “Lipstick again,” he specified, unable to not grin while staring at Sara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked like an elf, in that she had made herself as small as possible, folded in her crossed arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry for having spoiled your party,” Greg murmured honestly, but with that barefaced smile still present on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you mind avoiding ironies, please?” Sara reprimanded him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It had to be a great party given your bad mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom's voice suddenly thundered over both of them. “Can we get out of this...” he got nervous, gesturing in the air, unable to find the right word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...bridal suite?” Greg proposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara couldn't handle it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” she said, harshly, giving him a shove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg moved backwards and his heels bumped into the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about bridal suites, Greg?” Grissom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, you still treat me like the lab tech with crazy hair...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of old times,” Sara said, forestalling Grissom's reply, “Do you remember when that article about Nick was published in the lab's journal and you covered the lab's walls with copies of it? I remember that Nick had words with you about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. So...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can do to you, if a word, a comma, a sign, a breath comes out about this story.” Her eyes were dark and her face strained, as she was staring at him just a few centimetres away. “I'll be on you long before you realize it and when you'll realize what's going on it will be too late. I've piled up stress, Greg: do you want to give me the chance to unload?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg watched her stunned for a second, but then his usual quiet smile haltingly came back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fireworks, uh?” he asked Grissom, almost looking for some help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Grissom said in return. “Maybe...a little</span>
  <em>
    <span> too many</span>
  </em>
  <span> fireworks,” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice naturally took a sweeter character and by that everybody understood that he was talking to Sara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try me, Greg, and you'll see,” she added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. It's not necessary to be so stressed out...” Grissom tried to calm Sara down, gently taking her by an arm and separating her from Greg, placing himself between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because these wings are no longer wings to fly, but merely vans to beat the air,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he quoted turned to Sara, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>the air which is now thoroughly small and dry, smaller and dryer than the will, teach us to care and not to care, teach us to sit still.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara looked at him exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T.S. Eliot, 'Ash-Wednesday',” Grissom explained to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice moment for a quote, Gilbert, but –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gilbert!” interfered Greg. The supervisor's name seemed shouted, even though it had been said at a normal volume. The other two turned towards Greg. “It has to be a serious thing, then,” he observed. His smile became gaudy, almost seemed to shine. Sara again launched herself at Greg, but Grissom managed to hold her, using his own body as a buffer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gosh, she's a fury...” Greg again commented, fearless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom decided that he had to put a stop to all that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are enjoying yourself Greg, aren’t you?” he said with such a steady voice that made Greg's smile vanish from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The supervisor turned to him and his eyes made the guy remember the time when he peed at a crime scene's bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what entertains me, instead?” Grissom asked again, taking a few steps towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Greg's eyes there was an ultimate despairing glare. “Making fireworks inside a warehouse in dim lighting?” he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom smiled, but he wasn't entertained at all. He stopped in front of the young man – the tips of his shoes were just a few centimetres away from Greg's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember the first time you were on a crime scene?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I do.” Greg answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember,” Grissom continued, “that Nick had to enter into that bus looking for a body and that I told you that fire-fighters only look for dead bodies in the obvious spots?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I asked you what the unobvious spots were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom nodded for the soundness of his colleague's reply and lowered his gaze on the knot of Greg’s tie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have much more imagination than you can ever imagine, Greg,” he then stated (he lifted his gaze and pointed at the young man's eyes). “Much, much more imagination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hysterical titter came out of Greg's lips. “...uh, yeah...copy that” he then stammered hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I think we understood each other,” Grissom concluded, pulling back like a snake after a successful attack. He walked back to Sara's side. “I think we're ready to go,” he finally announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Sara stood staring at Greg. The guy tidied himself up, throwing them dirty glances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That good cop/bad cop scene was nice...well, in this case, bad cop and bad cop. Well played,” he grumbled. “But it wasn't necessary, you know? I'm still able to recognize what’s serious and what’s not. And this is definitely serious. Do you really think I would have blabbed out about this to anybody?” he asked gobsmacked, turning to Sara. “How long have you known me, Sara?” he reproached her. “Certainly, a generous boss would have thought of a promotion for me, just for not having let you exit from here in the conditions you were when I got in –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want a promotion, Greg?” Grissom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let's say that I wouldn't mind...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” the supervisor replied, shocking the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?! That's great!” Greg exclaimed, turning to Sara who was looking at Grissom dumbfounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just follow the protocol,” Grissom contained Greg's enthusiasm. “Let me have your request and I’ll evaluate you. If you pass, you'll have your promotion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg turned disappointed. “It's not exactly what I expected, but I'll think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg then stopped and suddenly turned serious. He stared at Grissom and Sara with a thoughtful and strange seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two look good together,” he eventually said, with a profoundness that surprised his two colleagues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom and Sara barely glimpsed at each other and, caught by surprise, didn't know how to react.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well!” Greg then announced with a new spirit. “I think it's better if I leave now. It's time for me to make the night shine!” Not waiting for a reaction, he unlocked the door and glanced outside. “You...just pretend I never got in, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom and Sara really didn't know what to say or what to do, while the young man slipped away through the door, carrying the container with the artisanal fireworks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, hey...” Sara tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. I know how to handle them,” Greg informed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then turned off the light and finally closed the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom and Sara, left alone in the darkness, heard him walk away whistling. For some moments neither of them knew how to comment on what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I need to drink something strong,” Sara finally commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” Grissom said instead, timidly and pensively, “I think that, after all the work we've done...I would like to see the outcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara rejoiced in hearing that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping you'd say that!” she happily exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Call him and tell him to wait for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara got out and called Greg, who stopped and waited for them. They headed towards the main building together, entering from the back door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest was a bash.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Greg, Grissom and Sara soon found the rest of the team: all sat at their table, they were catching their breath after the dances. Greg gestured excitedly for them to follow him and, exclaiming “There's a surprise!”, he walked towards the bar table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A non-alcoholic shot for each of my friends here!” he said to the server. He also called doc Robbins and David, the groom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's this big surprise, Greg?” Nick asked, when they’d all gathered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found out how to use your brain?” Warrick echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can't tell you what the surprise is,” Greg answered – Sara and Grissom, mingled with that little crowd, looked at each other with concern, “You'll find it out in a moment.” Greg explained and the two understood that he was talking about the fireworks they made. “But, first I want to make a toast!” he continued with great surprise to the group. The young man scanned his friends and colleagues. "To friendship, co-operation and honesty!" he said, raising the glass filled with non-alcoholic liquid, “And to Super Dave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everybody raised their glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers!” they all shouted and then drank the drink in one sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now,” Greg announced, “Dave, go out and wait. The others, with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group followed Greg and went upstairs, on the terrace that faced the front side of the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The show was fascinating: you couldn't call them 'fireworks' in the strict sense of the word, but there was some little explosion, a bit of smoke and some sparks – the necessary to pay homage to Super Dave and his wife. Each member joined to put the show on stage and a good exhibition came out. Afterwards, everybody enjoyed the party on the terrace – people coming and going, glasses, laughs and music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a bright idea, that's for sure,” Nick congratulated Greg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let's say that...I may have had some help,” Greg replied, throwing a glance at Sara, who was by his side at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all that revelry, after the so called fireworks, Grissom stood aside, watching his colleagues and friends enjoying themselves. Every now and then he threw a glance at Sara – he did it almost unwittingly, as if his eyes had a life of their own and every so often they still felt the need, after all those years, to rest on her figure in order to keep living. He smiled, reassured by seeing her happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you keep staying there stock-still, birds will mistake you for a statue,” Catherine addressed him, approaching from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom recognized her voice and smiled, barely turning his head towards his colleague.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you know what birds do to statues...” she added, when by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Birds usually sleep at this time, Catherine,” he defended himself, with his usual pedantic way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell that to the bats...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that bats –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know everything I have to know about bats, thanks Gil,” Catherine stopped him, before he began one of his lessons. “I looked for you, earlier,” she added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing serious, don't worry. It’s just that I had found a girl that might match you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom smiled at her, amused by the idea, however groundless – she knew it too – that Catherine tried to combine him with a woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then,” Catherine continued, “I saw that you were in good company, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good company?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you entering the hall with Sara and Greg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh...yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard that Greg made the fireworks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard that too,” Grissom replied, absent-mindedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” Catherine said, suddenly wary, “Greg is good, but...he doesn't have the  fantasy and skillfulness required to be able to make fireworks from scratch...where were you all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all? What do you mean?” Grissom asked, all of a sudden more alert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to her and his colleague's eyes were saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you think?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grissom understood that he had to come up with something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well...” he muttered, “it's possible that I may have given him some help,” he reluctantly admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing with Greg? It doesn't really look like someone you would like to spend time with...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact, I wasn't spending time with him,” Grissom declared with a measured firmness. “I was having a walk outside and I heard them talking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard them? He and...Sara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-mh. So...I just wanted to check that they didn't cause any trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Sara seems to have her head screwed on. Yeah, sometimes she goes along with him, but I don't think she would allow him to do something dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn't want to take the risk,” Grissom observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine turned contemplative. “Maybe they were talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>another kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> of fireworks,” she reflected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>other kind</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know...” Catherine shook her hands in front of her as if she was holding a bowl containing a curdled mayonnaise. “You know, the</span>
  <em>
    <span> other kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> of fireworks: the one that warms your blood, that makes your legs go limp, that takes your breath away...” she was speaking like inspired by some kind of love divinity, but then, seeing Grissom's perplexed face, she lost the contact and the divinity packed up. “Why do I even bother...?” thus she said disconsolate, adding a couple of pats on her friend's back. “What do you, always so cold and  principled, know about fireworks under the sheets...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Grissom interrupted her, “would you mind not talking about my sex life? It makes me uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I had your sex life, I would be uncomfortable too,” she noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Catherine. You talking about it, makes me uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine was having great fun teasing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh well! I'm sorry...I didn't think that a man of science like you would get shocked by the mere physicality of the evolutionary process.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not shocked. Just...don't talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. It was just to say that perhaps you had interrupted something, with that fireworks thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not interrupt anything, Catherine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mh,” she murmured, wrinkling her mouth a bit deluded. “Too bad...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! Sara really needs to find a man and Greg, you know...looks like somebody to have fun with for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing is...Would she have fun with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! You've known her a lot longer than I have, what do you think about it?” Catherine asked, as if she was looking for advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About Sara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...I don't know...” he said, evasively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine knew that under that heavy layer of grey ashes with which Grissom used to wear his head, as if he was constantly living the Ash Wednesday, there was a fire – an eternal fire, lighted millennia ago, revived by who knows what life experiences. And she had always felt sorry knowing that he would never do much to blow those ashes away, letting the wind of life fan over the embers and giving the fire the chance to flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, com'on, you must have an idea!” Catherine spurred him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. That's what I wrote in her evaluation report,” Grissom answered coldly instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine smiled sadly, but then she became  amused again, turning her thoughts to Sara one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear, I have no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first man that lets her have some fun, she...eats him. Literally, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom turned to her – and this time his torso turned towards the colleague as well – and stared at her astonished at her talking about Sara that way. Moreover, he felt a light arousal growing within him and his mind went back to the warehouse, and to what he and Sara were doing before Greg interrupted them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine's continuation didn't help. “She devours him, she would even munch the tiniest bones, until –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cath,” Grissom interrupted her. “Thanks, you made it clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh...! The ice man is sensitive to warmth...” she said in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunted something and didn't reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never bought me a plant,” she insinuated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom threw her a dirty look. “You never threatened to quit,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” she sighed, leaving her gaze to flow through the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom understood that with that sigh she meant something else and it was not difficult – not even to him – to understand what it suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catherine, Grissom,” David’s timorous voice called from behind, making them turn. “I’m sorry to disturb you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize, David,” Catherine reassured him. “You’re a married man, now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David didn’t know how to interpret that statement and became embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About this...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Catherine said, “Your wife looks adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, no! I don’t even think about it!” the groom reassured her. “God bless her!” he stated with certainty, “I'm only here to give you the party favors. I know you're about to leave, so...” – the party would have gone on, but the members of the CSI team had to go to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That said David handed one party favor to each of his colleagues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for coming,” David thanked politely, but deeply honest. Catherine and Grissom thanked him in return, commenting that it had been a wonderful party and confirming they would have left soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greg put on a great show with those fireworks!” David observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the tone of his voice, both his colleagues had the impression that he wanted them to think highly of his friend. Catherine turned to Grissom, waiting for him to comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was good, yeah,” the supervisor nodded, just before throwing a distracted look to Catherine.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Greg and Grissom met again at the reception desk, both there to pick up the keys of their own cars. When Greg arrived, Grissom was in line, waiting for his turn. The young man greeted the supervisor with a nod of the head and the other did the same. They didn't talk. When Grissom's turn came, he gave his own number, and finding himself alone with Greg – no one was around – he felt the need to have a chat with him. Thus he turned and stared at him. Yet, he was not able to find anything to say, anything that could help him to establish any type of contact with the young man. Greg noticed his supervisor's look and for a moment he bore it, in a rather proud, but friendly way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need Bragi,” he said all of a sudden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Grissom blurted, floored by the fact that Greg was the first to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bragi, Odin's son and Idun's husband,” Greg specified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom looked at him even more perplexed and Greg understood that he had no idea what he was talking about. So he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today is Wednesday, which in Nordic culture is Odin's day: in Norwegian Wednesday is said Onsdag – </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ons</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Odin, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dag</span>
  </em>
  <span>, day. In Scandinavian mythology, it says somewhere that one of Odin's sons is Bragi, the god of poetry, and is renowned for wisdom, but most importantly for fluency of speech and skill with words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom's gaze asked why he was telling him that story and so Greg specified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A moment ago you seemed like you couldn't find the words, so I thought Bragi would help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom deeply hated him for having bared his vulnerability, but he tried to not show it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who's Idun?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he finished asking the question, Grissom could see something light up in Greg's eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know?” he said in fact, “actually, maybe you don't need Bragi, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Grissom's eyebrows jumped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And...you say that...because...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idun is Bragi's wife and it's thought that she kept the fruits the gods ate granting them eternal youthfulness,” Greg explained, a sly smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom, in spite of his great intelligence and extensive knowledge, didn't understand the implied reference. Greg felt forced to be more explicit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… “you know what they say about mature men having romantic relationships with younger women....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom was shocked by that insinuation, but didn't have time to reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two have gotten used to spending time together...” Catherine caught them off guard. They instantly looked guilty. “You were right, Gil, when you said that you didn't interrupt anything,” she continued, fixing her gaze on Greg. “Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sara</span>
  </em>
  <span> interrupted something,” she joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom rolled his eyes, but Greg still didn't understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How were you able to make the chemical agents work together and not make them explode at the slightest movement?” she asked Greg out of the blue, before Grissom could intervene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg was lucky, however, because Catherine's question was the same one he had asked Grissom, while working on the fireworks. Thus, he repeated parrot-fashion the answer Grissom had given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good Greg. Great memory,” Catherine congratulated with surprise, not avoiding to look at Grissom with reasoning eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg felt reinvigorated. “I'm not just the lab tech with crazy hair,” he cheered up, turning to Grissom as well, and looking at him with satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. What's left to say?” the supervisor said in return. “Happy Onsdag!” he exclaimed with a restrained enthusiasm. The other two looked at him perplexed. “Now, if you don't mind, I must go to work. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is something you should do too,” he concluded with a melodious voice, like a little angel on the Sistina Chapel from which, though, transpired something sadistic and diabolic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away under the gaze of Catherine and Greg who, not knowing why, watched him leave, as if attracted by something. And something happened, in fact, but only one of them understood what – only Greg got it, having already deciphered Grissom and Sara's impalpable code.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before exiting the hall, Grissom met Sara. A normal dialogue, normal gesturing: Sara apparently asked Grissom something and he turned to the two observers – who were still watching him – and pointed at them; she saw them, thanked him with a nod of the head, he greeted her with a few words and a nod, and they parted: one heading toward a direction, the other toward the opposite one. A short meeting without any irregularity, with his own harmony and grace. In spite of this, though, Greg </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> them – like a drawing that comes out of the paper and takes a real shape before our eyes; something physical and real, but at the same time, something so transparent and weightless!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were very good, Greg had to admit thinking to himself: theirs had always been a quite strange relationship. Although they had known each other for so many years, ever since Sara arrived in Las Vegas there had been a sort of intimacy and, at the same time, uneasiness between the two of them – intimacy and uneasiness whose cause was unknown to everyone. No one, as far as he knew, Greg once thought, knew what the real depth of their personal history was. Sara was a person he trusted, Grissom once said. But, what was that trust built on? What experiences had cemented the bricks of this big solid house that we all call trust? And Grissom wasn't the kind to use words at random! Greg had always found this intriguing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cath. I was looking for you,” Sara said, when she was next to her colleagues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Approaching them, however, she had the impression that there was something strange in their eyes – observing them, one could grasp that in each of them...lived kind of opposite emotions. So she stopped, disoriented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Why?” Catherine said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was looking for you. There's some kind of problem with your car. I think you have to move it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. I was already on my way,” Catherine reflected. “I'll see you later at the lab. See you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked away and this time Greg was left with Sara, watching Catherine leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Everything fine, Greg?” Sara asked, out of the blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything's fine, yeah, Idunn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idunn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg laughed within himself, for that personal game of his. “Leave it alone, it's a long story.” But his impertinent disposition prevailed on seriousness, and made him add: “Ask Grissom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara looked at him severely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No kidding. He knows what I'm talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara kept staring at him for one more moment, suspiciously; finally she calmed down and went back to watching the people around, as Greg got his car keys. Together, then, they headed towards the parking lot. What happened in the warehouse was like a presence that walked along with them, arm in arm with them; they knew they had to talk about it, but their only dialogue was made up of Greg's greeting, when he arrived at his car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. What's left to say?” he said. “Happy Onsdag!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relationship between the three involved in the “warehouse affair” calmed down and everybody kept behaving as if nothing had happened.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The topic popped out again a few days later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During the case of the pedophile Carl Fisher, Grissom happened to walk in the lab where Greg and Sara were working, treating the young man badly because of the music’s volume, in his opinion too loud. Sara defended Greg, stating that she was the one to put the music on and, after Grissom talked with Greg about the case and the young man had left the room, Sara suggested to Grissom to be kinder to him, since he was about to face the coroner’s inquiry for James' case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After closing of the Fisher case, Sara and Greg met again in the parking lot of the lab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara was about to open the car door, when Greg greeted her, headed towards his own car. He stopped and they had a short chat, commenting on the case just closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for defending me,” Greg said, out of the blue, without preamble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Defending you?” Sara asked puzzled, the key already in her car's lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was the one who put the music on in the lab...you know, when Grissom...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! The music. Yeah...I know it was you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg thanked her again with a glance and then seemed to ask why she had done that and, at the same time, to reassure her on the fact that it was not necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I have paid back a bit of my debt of gratitude,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Debt of gratitude? For what?” her friend asked, honestly unaware of what she was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For...David's wedding party,” Sara explained, avoiding to go into details, sure that he could understand anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg laughed knowingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he asked anyway with bogus ingenuity. “What happened at David's wedding party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara welcomed that innocent lie with a warm smile. Then she reached a hand and gently touched his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're a good friend,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg smiled, in that personal way of getting embarrassed and feeling proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won't ask you what he's got that I don't, this time, 'cause...it's quite clear,” he said with tenderness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara blushed with a smile and looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry I attacked you that evening,” she apologized and Greg simply shrugged his shoulders, moving then to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talking about David's wedding party,” Sara asked when Greg was already heading towards his car, “who's Idunn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already told you. Ask Grissom,” Greg replied, without bothering to turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The topic never popped out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours after the chat in the parking lot with Greg, Sara reached Grissom at his place. He was not in a good mood – in part because of his headache, in part because of the case just closed – but he tried not to show it. They ate making short and sporadic comments on the news and afterward Grissom withdrew to his studio, saying that she could stay if she wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left alone, Sara tried to relax watching TV. She knew he had meant it when he'd said she could stay, but to be fair she also knew he would rather be alone. Thus, less than fifteen minutes later, she reached him in his studio and, making up an excuse, she informed him that she had to leave. As expected he didn't offer any objection and went back to studying the pages of the book he was reading. Sara was about to leave, but a recollection stopped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...listen Gil...” she said, standing at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mh?” he murmured, without raising his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have something to tell you,” Sara said hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Grissom said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reply floored Sara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know?” she asked perplexed “What do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were not the one who put the music on, the other day, in the lab with Greg,” Grissom answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sara stood staring at him astonished for at least ten seconds, so much that Grissom lifted his eyes to understand the reason for that silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he then asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the heck do you know that?” Sara asked, suddenly irritated, “Did Greg tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he didn’t,” Grissom answered, lowering his gaze on his own affairs, not caught by surprise at all by Sara's reaction. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> did,” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when did I tell you?” Sara asked again. “In my sleep, maybe? Because I'm sure I haven't told you anything about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t been talking in your sleep for months now, and I’m glad because it means that you stopped having nightmares,” Grissom started to explain, with a tender tone, continuing then with more rigor. “You didn't tell me in your sleep, but in the very moment you said that you were the one to put the music on, that very day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara turned speechless and she was just able to say: “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom forced the book he was trying to read aside – not in a bad way, but it was clear that he would've preferred not to – and then explained directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our relationship has been going on for some time now, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For more than a year, Gil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in this ‘more than a year’, as you say, you have often lied, acting in good faith of course, because of our relationship. When, for instance, you refuse an invite from the guys of the team to go out together, because we have other plans, or things like that. Many of the times you did it, I was there.” Sara was listening in silence. “Something strange happens to your voice, when you do it,” Grissom finally cleared up, moving his hand softly between his throat and his mouth. “It's a kind of, I don't know...a kind of constriction, an imperceptible effort. Moreover, you do that thing with your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What thing with my head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep it fixed, as if you are waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped speaking and stared at her – his eyes were asking if the explanation had been sufficient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know? You give me the creeps when you do this,” Sara sentenced severely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's just because I watch you,” Grissom replied appeasingly. “Don’t you women like that your mates only have eyes for you?” he added, with a more sarcastic than loving air on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you also get on my nerves,” Sara continued, “I...was sincerely worried to tell you about this. I was worried that you would get angry and you, instead, already knew it the very moment it was happening?! You could at least pretend not to know and give me the satisfaction of telling you. Appreciate the effort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you would have told me. You are way too devoted to the truth to not do it. But...why would I have to get angry?” he asked, worried for a moment, “Are there other things that I don't know about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara smiled in a falsely happy and sincerely vindictive way. “You know everything. Figure it out yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That said, she took her leave, leaving Grissom with the clear feeling to have irritated her. He stayed there reasoning for some moments, listening to Sara, on the other side of the house, who was preparing to leave. He threw a distracted look at the book he was reading and finally got up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When he arrived in the living room, Sara was heading towards the door, jacket on, her bag over her shoulder. The sound of Grissom's steps made her turn, and she stopped with her hand already on the handle. She stared at him, surprised to find him there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to irritate you,” Grissom blurted out, standing near the top of the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised by his apology, and smiled placidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not angry,” she replied seriously. She then continued, with a lighter tone. “You always say what people want to say before they actually say it. If we were to get mad every time you do it, we probably wouldn't even talk to you anymore,” she joked dearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom curled his lips, unsure about how he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate you telling me,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara nodded as a sign of thanksgiving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How's your headache going?” she then asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Grissom was the surprised one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How Did you know I have a headache?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like you're not the only one here who can read people's body language,” Sara replied, with a proud smile for surprising him. “Does it still hurt?” she asked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit, yeah...” Grissom answered, grateful that she cared about him. That thought made him remember another thing. “You were right about another thing too,” he informed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara frowned, not knowing what he was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be more gentle with Greg. I promise I'll keep an eye out for him,” Grissom stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara appreciated his purpose and Grissom gave a hint of a joke – which maybe wasn't really a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also because he...you know...he now knows about our little secret. I don't want to succumb to some kind of revenge that nullifies our efforts to...uhm...keep the secret secret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greg is not the kind of guy who would do that” Sara stated, to reassure him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'll try not to put him under too much pressure anyway,” Grissom reiterated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sure he'll appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There was a silent moment then, and Sara had the impression that her mate felt the need to say something. She then waited and that “something” eventually arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you...always sure about it?” Grissom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara reasoned over the question and, feeling uncertain, looked for a confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I sure about...our secret or to keep the secret secret?” she asked, smiling for the repetition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom thought over her question for a moment: at first he had wanted  reassurance on just the first part of Sara's question, but, to avoid any misunderstanding, he wanted confirmation on the rest too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sure,” Sara answered, with no need to think about it. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sure,” Grissom affirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those little endearments were the sparks that rekindled the fire of their relationship. Sara left the handle of the door, approached him and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to get some sleep,” she recommended him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...I'm usually the one saying that,” he objected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems that you're not the only one here giving good advice as well,” Sara replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved to the door, but, once there, hand on the handle again, she stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talking about secrets...” she started, “it seems that...um...you're sharing one with Greg,” she tried tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just talked about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that secret,” she laughed. “Do you know anything about Idunn...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idunn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He called me that at David's party. When I asked him about it, he said you know what it means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grissom had to reflect over it for a moment, but finally remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As far as I understood, she's a Scandinavian goddess. She was thought to keep the fruits the gods ate, granting them eternal youthfulness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara was puzzled. “Why did he call me that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's a long story,” Grissom answered reluctantly, “but Greg's final explanation was:</span>
  <em>
    <span> You know what they say about mature men having romantic relationships with younger women.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara was astonished. “Oh. Mh,” she murmured, before taking the time to reflect – Grissom knew what she was thinking about  and didn’t want her to  even go there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not my case though, of course,” he stated firmly, breaking off any possible doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara smiled, apparently reassured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,” she simply said, with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She left the house soon after, leaving Grissom alone and tired. Yet at the same time Grissom felt happy: happy for having undertaken that fascinating and intriguing secret relationship with a woman he had always found fascinating and who, day by day, proved to be up to expectations. To the point that, heading towards his studio with a slow and listless stride, a question unexpectedly bloomed among the many thoughts that dwelt in his mind, shining with the brilliance of the North Star in a dark night: why not move forward in the path that constitutes any romantic relationship?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have been frequenting their respective houses for some time now: sometimes he slept at her place and vice versa, they both had bought another toothbrush, leaving it at the other's house, some garments for the night had started to be left under the pillow of the other's bed and a change of clothes was always close at hand. But that was not really living together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The confirmation they had given each other, a few minutes earlier, just before Sara left, was the spring that gave the impulse to Grissom's brain to reason: how would a real cohabitation change their relationship?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks later, it all started a Wednesday morning with a simple: “You know, maybe we should move in together.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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